


Cadence

by Lacertae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Masturbation, Music, Music Kink, Orgasm, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Dave solo*</p><p>It is no mystery that Dave loves music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this sexcanon (http://homestucksexcanons.tumblr.com/post/41715433282/this-is-actually-a-really-cute-headcanon)

The beat is slow at first.

You chose to use a deep one, that echoes right in your chest, with a vibrato that drags on and on, until you can feel it in every fibre of your skin.

It makes your insides tingle almost pleasantly, but most of it is simply anticipation, your heart speeding up for the fragment of a second before you force it back to its calm rhythm –you can’t mess it up.

It has to be perfect.

It grows on a staccato, a few scattered notes offering the first distance from the basic rhythm, and your fingers twitch slightly on the levers, feeling the notes regroup together, the sound slightly higher.

The speakers are set on mid-volume, so not to disrupt the flow –they are good, but not as good as they could be. More expensive stuff will come later, when you’ve made a name for yourself.

You’ve always been fond of music, all the kinds of music, not just the kind you create with digital means –it’s part of you.

John’s piano, Rose’s violin, Jade’s bass… you’ve sampled them all, taken them into your hands and moulded them together, then shattered them into single, disrupted notes.

They were your starting pieces, those instruments, because they were from the people you cared for the most, and even after all this time, when you mix, you always return to that original feeling of perfection you felt that first time –accomplished, panting and spread on the floor, ears ringing with those raw beats.

You’ve grown better with time, attuned to each sound and each flicker, until your body knows them on its own, but those three sounds are precious to you and you use them to direct the flow, give you an impression and settle what you want, even when you’re not using them to make any song.

This one, though –this one will have them all.

You feel each beat inside your blood, pumping it through your veins until you breathe the rhythm and you feed on it.

The tempo quickens.

It’s gradual at first, the bass ringing low, mixing with the basic tune. It splits, then twists and vibrates twice, thrice, stop, half-beat.

Your heartbeat follows the new tempo, your lips part, sucking air inside. You shiver, eyes fluttering close as you let the music entrance you, pulling you down with it.

There, the violin is a sharp contrast.

It blossoms from the depths of the bass, abrupt, underlined by a sudden rumble, and grows strong, swift and fluid and it raises into the air around you, and together with it, so does your breath.

Your hands are trembling, but the grip stays stable as you twist a knob, peg the violin down, harness it to your will.

The violin shivers, quivers, retires for a moment and the bass grows frenzied, they mix and twist together, and you groan out loud, shivering and feeling your body react to the playful banter of the instruments.

You respond to the notes, the beat is inside you, lost and vulnerable to its touches, and you feel it through you as you sway slightly, shivering and panting as invisible hands caress your frame, like gentle, incorporeal bodies.

With a slow exhale, soft enough that it doesn’t break the trance you’ve fallen into, with the music _touching_ you, you push against the table, pressing yourself to relieve the growing pressure in your pants are heat grows inside you.

The music isn’t lethargic at all, it’s active and compelling, you breathe it and drink it, and it fills you to the core, every bump and tick.

It’s a capriccio, hasty and bright, with quick tempo and cheerful notes flickering up and down, and you can’t get enough of it.

It’s perfect. It’s burning inside you, asking out, sending shivers of pleasure down your back.

A thumb pressed against the volume makes the speakers burst with sound, the bass so deep it vibrates through you, through the mixing set, you can feel the way it sets you on fire.

The violin is sweet, kissing you, your hair standing up, the flow makes you shiver, gasp in the empty room, but it’s not empty –the music is there, holding you, gently, captivating, demanding something out of you…

You don’t realise you’re gasping until you’re pressed hard against the mixing gears, arms shaking, trying to control yourself, but the music coaxes you on.

The piano explodes into the play, intriguing, playful, daring, mixes together the gentle pull of the bass, the alluring caresses of the violin, shoots through you, until your legs tremble, and you lean on the table, hands slipping further on its surface, against the turntables.

You don’t need to use them, the sounds are so good, so pure–

“Ah…”

Trained to focus on each instrument, trained to let it penetrate your soul, your ears, with the soft, gentle caresses of a lover, and you find yourself gasping louder, your voice a makeshift chant, breathy and throaty, spurred on by the music dancing around you.

The pressure of the table against you is pleasant, so good, with heat making you desperate, rubbing yourself against the strong surface, unable to move any other part of your body.

The tune, the beats, have you captivated, trapped and wanting more, but too lost within the song to find solace in touching your heated skin.

“Hnnng…”

You can feel the song quickening, then slowing again, maddening with the way it drags on, holding you on the brink, teasing you, a soft pause where the only sound is the vibrating bass, long and good, until you shiver with it, until you’re almost pleading, mouth dry, gasping and whining–

Your lips move, mouthing a plea, lost in the burning heat, the pleasure, unable to vocalise your want–

Everything explodes with music.

The instruments coming together, a beautiful chorus of sounds, and you feel like your body is floating, light and burning with heat.

You slump down on the table, messing with the settings, but you don’t care, eyes unfocused, body twitching, the tune surrounding you, touching you, and you push into it, flushed and wanton, crying out in pleasure…

The song reaches its climax, and as it does so do you, moaning loudly, unashamedly, hands finally coming to touch yourself through your pants, merely heightening the harsh burst of pleasure.

You keen, broken and coming undone, and the music, teasing, retreats into a slow, hushed adagio, dragging on your aftershocks, and you messily rub yourself until the last wave simmers down, and you lay there, sprawled on the table, spent and weak.

The music hums with the last, wandering notes, making your eyes flutter and fall shut.

It felt so good, perfect, the music moving at the right pace, spreading the right feelings through you until the last crescendo, until it scattered everywhere and then silence.

Fulfilled, you close your eyes and breathe deeply, fingers curling on themselves, tingling.

Yes, you will play this song again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> vibrato - creating variation pitch in a note by quickly alternating between notes.  
> staccato - short scattered notes.  
> capriccio - a quick, improvised and spirited piece of music.  
> adagio - a tempo with a slow movement.


End file.
